Quiet Mountain, Retreating
by manhattan martini
Summary: "Clair, our Gym Leader, is waiting for you." — Clair, Lance, Gold


Clair watches him arrive, his knees pink from what she presumes is a minor case of frostbite, his hands gloved, a hasty scarf thrown around his neck. He tips his cap at her, grinning, and walks towards the pokécenter.

She flies back to her gym, descending heavily from her dragonair, her boots clunking dryly against the iron floor. She calls out any slouching trainers, tells them to be prepared for the next challenger, and waits.

Gold doesn't come.

* * *

She spots him in the early morning, while she's patrolling the mountains surrounding the city. The air is frosty and breaks into clouds when she lands before him with a snarl. Gold replies with a soft, resigned sigh, a paler fog thinning in front of his mouth.

"I'm taking a break," he says, burying his hands inside his pockets. He's still wearing his shorts, despite the cold weather, but she's wearing even less, so she swallows her complaints. "I'm not strong enough to beat you yet."

Clair has heard of Pryce's defeat, something quick, intelligent, and thrilling—you'll see for yourself eventually, Clair, he had told her, and she had almost snorted, skeptic—but a defeat is a defeat and she wants something else. She wants to prove herself.

"How do you know that?" she replies testily, gloves hands fisting. People who fail to recognize their self-worth irk her. "We have never battled before, and I know you've earned all the other badges." She almost adds: "Are you going to deprive me of a battle just because you're a coward?" but regains her bearings before she can.

"I'm temporarily depriving you of a battle because I've experienced enough to know I'm not ready yet," he says, one hand slipping out of his jacket's pockets and scratching at his neck. "I can tell that if I were to battle you today, I would lose."

Clair flies away in an angry flurry of wind because she would throttle him otherwise.

* * *

Lance is the heir of the Dragon's Den, but Clair is family too, and has to attend the ceremonies. She knows the traditional scrolls by heart, she knows how to kneel down properly, and she knows how to serve tea with steady hands. She knows how to play the part of daughter, of wife, of servant, but she'll never really accept defeat.

"Are you staying tonight?" she asks Lance, after everything's done and recited and packed away neatly for the next equinox. The Elder peers at his priests under lidded eyes and heavy frown, making sure to have them on their toes. The family has other privileges and is allowed to relax after the candles are snuffed.

"I'm needed in Azalea tonight. The slowpoke festival will start soon enough and I wouldn't like Team Rocket to get any ideas." He sips his tea, eyes faraway.

"Are you still blaming yourself for not dealing with the Radio Tower?" she asks, in a murmur, bringing her own cup to her mouth. She doesn't like tea, never has, but the porcelain covers her mouth, and she likes being secretive when she knows the Elder is around. It tastes like watered-down honey and menthol and she almost cringes.

Lance doesn't reply, but she knows him. She doesn't need verbal confirmation to be sure,

Later, he flies off, telling her he'll be back in a week or two, and for her to be patient around Gramps, because he's getting old and stubborn and he's bound to pressure her even more. Clair glares at him, but still allows him to run his hand across her hair as a farewell gesture.

* * *

Gold makes the southern route his training field. She gets used to watching the green glitter of the grass blades run after him, and she'll admit only to herself that the imagery is beautiful. She flies down to meet him when she's not moody, and Gold always finishes his battles before she lands if he notices she's going to greet him.

He wipes his damp forehead with an even damper sleeve and smiles, allowing his typhlosion to follow him out; the dew hasn't dried yet, she notices belatedly, lowering her gaze towards the clean tall grass. Claire halts when the sand gives way to muddier ground.

"Good morning," he pipes, making his chipper way out of the grass. "I'm still not ready, if that's why you're here."

"I wasn't," she lies, clicking her tongue, preparing an excuse. "I just want to know why you feel the need to train. From what I heard—" and she heard a lot, because the newer Gym Leaders are shameless chatterboxes, unbound by tradition and honor, "—you barreled through everyone else without a second thought. Why the pause now?"

Gold doesn't seem surprised by her question, like he'd already been expecting it. He scratches the backside of his typhlosion's ear and looks thoughtful.

"I guess it's because it's the first time I don't have anything to do before I challenge a Gym. There was always a lot of people I defeated on my way from town to town, and sometimes I had Team Rocket to battle, too – by the time I got to the gym, I was already feeling ready."

"But you've saved the Radio Tower," Clair argues, feeling warm. "You've just single-handedly defeated the remnants of Team Rocket. You should be ready!"

Gold frowns at her for the first time since they've met. Claire feels her shoulders stiffen when the boy huffs, feeling suddenly disrespected.

"Look, I know you really want me to hurry up and battle you," he says slowly, sounding nothing like the twelve-year-old he is, reminding her of the edge in Lance's voice when he gets angry, "but I'm the one who will challenge you. You'll have to bear with waiting. It's not like you don't have other trainers to battle, right?"

And finishes grinning widely, making her wonder how she could've ever labeled him threatening.

* * *

Lance keeps his word. She's in the middle of a battle when he calls her, telling her he'll be with Grandfather until she's done with her Gym duties, so she stops playing around and trounces her challenger before shutting down he gym for the day.

"It's only three yet," one of her trainers comments, frowning, and Clair sends him a glare before making her way to the Den.

Both Lance and the Elder are expecting her; when she slides the paper doors open, she lets them slam against the wooden end, but neither man offers a reaction. She grudgingly closes the doors with a softer hand and sits down between her grandfather and her cousin.

"You are late," the Elder says.

"I was in the middle of a battle," Clair replies tersely. "Warn me a little earlier next time," she adds, and, upon catching Lance's tense glance, tacks on a bland: "Please."

Her grandfather monitors her for a few seconds, playing with his beard, and then nods.

"We were discussing letting another apprentice join our ranks," he finally says. "Lance believes it is time to open a new position, especially after our oldest priest passed away. I, however, am not so easily convinced – the art of dragon taming isn't something we can spread as easily nowadays."

She wonders if that's why she was never taught by the Elder, but by a lower rank. The back of her neck feels hot.

"I heard from Lance that you are currently waiting for a new challenger. Is he the boy that has taken to camping in our southern fields? I hear he's doing very well at fending off wild pokémon; our crops are safe with him around."

"Yes, Grandfather," she replies, hands on her knees, "but surely you aren't thinking of choosing _him_—" when you haven't chosen me, she thinks.

"I do not see why not," the Elder says, lifting his brow. The wrinkles in his forehead roll into deeper lines. "He has defeated seven Gyms without losing once, and he is now training to defeat you. If he succeeds, we shall introduce him to the Den."

"He doesn't deserve being shown this cave," Clair eventually hisses, horrified. Lance's face tightens, his cheekbones becoming more obvious, his jaw taut. "What has he done that I haven't?"

Her grandfather picks up his tea cup.

"He hasn't lost," he delivers, sipping politely, and Lance's eyes avoid hers when she looks at him.

* * *

"Clair," he says, when they're under orange sky instead of stalactitic rock, his hand brushing over her shoulder. She wants to bite it off. "What did I tell you about Gramps?"

"Don't touch me," she hisses, rolling back her shoulder. "How am I supposed to be patient when he – he's never going to change! He's never going to look at me and say I'm just as good – that I'm better than all of his stupid priests put together!"

Breath skipping when she sighs, Clair glares at the ground, feeling six again.

Lance says nothing, but, then again, she hadn't expected him to do otherwise.

* * *

"Howdy," Gold greets, hands tight around the shopping bags. They're white and blue, stamped with the pokémart's trademark image. They look heavy.

Clair nods at him, and then resumes looking up at the sky. It's darker, today. Grey, too, but the clouds are nowhere to be seen. She's in the midst of wondering if a dry storm is coming their way when she realizes Gold is still talking to her.

"What?" she asks, feeling a little embarrassed. Gold looks at her funny but repeats his question nevertheless.

"Are you having a day off?"

"No," she says, feeling briefly disgruntled at the thought that Gym Leaders can have days off without having to make up excuses. "We don't have days off in Blackthorn," she adds, in a superior voice, closing her eyes. She doesn't tell him she's not allowed to work during holidays or religious festivities – he doesn't need to know she's not actually invulnerable to infinite hours of battling.

"It's because of the traditions and stuff, isn't it? I heard from some trainers in the pokécenter. Is it true the last Gym Leader was your uncle? So the Gym runs in the family?"

She feels a little annoyed that people are giving him so much information about the Gym's history, but she nods.

"Why didn't he pass it on to Lance?"

"I don't know," she replies frostily, getting up from the wooden bench she has been sitting on for the past hour. "Just hurry up and battle me. Don't you want to go on and defeat the Champion?"

Gold looks ready to answer her, but Clair just releases one of her dragonair and flies off. She spends the rest of her afternoon battling whatever wild pokémon get in her way, and even though she is completely exhausted by the time she gets home, there is still something eating up her insides.

* * *

Lance has left her a voice mail by the time she wakes up. She glares at her pokégear and traps it between cheek and shoulder as she opens her blinds, her curtains. Outside, the day is bright, white, and gloomy. She cringes, feeling sensitive.

"I had to leave Blackthorn," she hears his mechanically filtered voice say, along with violent windy whispers, "but I'll be back soon. Don't let Gramps get the best of you – and train up your pokémon, because that kid is tough."

She deletes his message with a heavy, accusing finger, and then throws a well-aimed punch into her pillow, feeling the heat of her anger dissipate afterwards. It's the first time Lance brings up Gold to her. He's talked about him with Grandfather, she knows, but it's the first time he mentions Gold to her. Because of her.

She still doesn't call him back.

* * *

"Hey," Gold calls out, running across the street to meet her. Clair stops, watches him lean on his knees, bent over as he catches his breath. "Wow, you walk really fast."

She rolls her eyes at him. "What is it? I'm busy."

"Lance swung by my tent today. He told me you're going to start training again."

"What's it to you?"

He looks momentarily taken aback by her grouchiness, but still continues.

"I wanted to ask you if I could go, too. The pokémon around here are getting too weak for mine to battle, and—"

"Can you fly?" Clair asks impatiently, already detaching a single pokéball from her belt.

"Yeah," Gold says, grinning, fishing one pokéball of his own.

* * *

Claire flies and lands better than he does; she supposes she's had years of practice already, but she still feels rather satisfied when she lands, watching him in the distance. His togetic shoots her a tired glare as Gold returns it with a grin.

"We're currently on the western side of Mt. Silver," she says, waving a bored hand towards the hills behind her. "You technically can't be here yet," and Gold pales a little, "but you're being accompanied by a Gym Leader, so it's fine."

"What kind of pokémon are there, around here?"

"Tough ones," she replies, cape billowing in the icy wind. "Let's see what you can do, then."

He doesn't last the afternoon; he needs to return to Blackthorn after a few hours. Clair bids him goodbye and sticks around until her team is absolutely exhausted.

She meets him in the pokécenter, on her way back to the gym.

"Thanks," he says, despite not having been able to last long in Mt. Silver, despite not having been taught anything by her. Claire doesn't understand, and Gold must pick up on her confusion, because he adds: "You could've just said no, instead of bringing me along. So, thanks. That was pretty cool of you."

She feels the back of her neck heat, but manages a nod.

* * *

Gold leaves the following day – he has a pair of pokémon in daycare, and he's going to take the long way there to check up on them. Clair bids him goodbye, watching him pedal through the bumpy route, and then returns to her gym. The weather is colder and colder with every day that passes, and she knows she'll have less challenges until spring. Ice Cave is not a walk in the park, especially now.

She gathers her pokémon in the days where she hasn't got any scheduled battles and spends her days battling inside frosty gray walls. Her dragonair complain moodily, getting tired of constantly having to thaw themselves out of icy statues, but Clair silences them with a glare and a tired sigh – "Look, we have to hold out against ice attacks, too, and you can bet he's going to use something he caught here."

Her pokémon falter in their grumpiness and eventually relent, but she still feels guilty when she notices the frostbite catching at their wings, the ends of their tails.

* * *

"Happy Halloween," Lance says, narrowly avoiding hitting an ecstatic group of children in their faces. They're crowding around the Champion with looks of absolute adulation, bringing up their paper bags. "Sorry, kids, I don't have any candy," he adds awkwardly.

Clair crosses her arms and cocks her hip.

"We're busy today," she says, "so please bother him tomorrow."

The children step away at the sound of her voice, looking paler, and she feels a little guilty, maybe, though she'd mever admit it. Lance waves the kids goodbye, promising them he'll give em a ride on his dragonite if he can find the time.

"You're too soft," Clair whispers – she'd been aiming for a hiss, but it somehow lost its blade along the way.

"I've been told," he replies with a smirk. "How's Gramps?"

"Senile, as usual." She releases one of her dragonair and looks at him. "Well?"

"You're offering me a ride?"

Clair blushes, she can't help it; with a sharp hiss and a twist of her mouth, Lance steps back, holding his hands in the air.

"You have your own pokémon," she finally manages.

"Yes, you're right." But he's smiling.

She ignores him all the way to the Dragon's Den. Inside, it's colder than outside; Clair has assumed from early age that it has something to do with the high amounts of water inside the cave, or maybe the fact that it doesn't get any sun. She still huffs in irritation, breathing into her hands.

"Cold?" Lance asks.

"No," she lies, wrapping her scarf tighter around her neck, like a noose.

Thankfully, Grandfather has ordered the fireplace be lit. The dojo is somewhat warm and painted in yellow and orange shadows, and Claire can't help but to relax when she sits. Grandfather offers them tea (she ignores it) and then plays with the wooden knots of his cane.

"I want to know how the situation with the Gym challenger is going," he finally says.

"He still hasn't battled me," Clair bites out, after trying to soothe over her anger. She'll have a collar around her neck while this man is alive and the thought cuts deeper every time she thinks about it. "He is currently traveling towards Route 34 on foot. I don't know when he expects to return."

Her grandfather runs his fingers across the wood, trying to smooth it over.

"What of the Rocket boy?" He turns to Lance, and Clair knows her time here is over. She would leave, if that wasn't a display of extreme rudeness. If she were more like Lance. "Have you no idea of his whereabouts yet?"

Lance doesn't look ashamed in the least.

"I do not. However, he has been less and less interested in the matters regarding Team Rocket. I do not find him as valuable as I did months ago." He tents his hands, elbows on the table. "Gold will be more than enough to deterr him. I do not need to get myself more involved."

The Elder nods, eyes closed. Clair, her fists.

* * *

"So, your big secret mission was stalking a twelve-year-old," is the first thing she tells him when they're out of the cave. She loosens her scarf, basking in the dim sunlight.

"Well, yes," he replies, unabashed, "he was a powerful trainer for his age – he is in Gold's level, if I'm not mistaken. The International Police asked me to keep an eye on him, just in case."

"Exciting," she says dryly.

Lance only smiles, choosing not to continue this particular subject.

"Have you bought any candy yet?"

"Why should I?"

"What will you give to the kids?"

"Nothing."

Lance just shakes his head, smiling. Half an hour later, she finds herself in the supermarket, holding a plastic bag full of candy. Lance still pays.

* * *

Lance follows her home (she thinks it's because he's not sure about her ability to give candy to kids), and Clair lets him. They order take-out because she feels too embarrassed to cook for him, and Lance gives the brave kids who come knocking on her door a ride on his dragonite.

She watches from the doorway, leaning against the jambs, feeling warm even in the cool night air.

* * *

Gold returns sooner than she expects. She still has leftover candy; she hands him a package of sour gummy bears and tries not to smile. Gold grins at her in thanks.

"How is your schedule tomorrow?"

"I'm going to be out training," she replies coolly. "If we were to battle now, you would win. So I'm going to train until I feel like I can win."

Gold looks so shocked and betrayed Clair almost implodes from the inner strength she's using not to laugh in his face.

"What!? You can't do that, can you? Aren't gym leaders supposed to use the same team for every challenger? I only have seven badges yet, so you have to use the team for a finalist, not a rematch—wait, are you making a joke?"

She can't help it this time, she laughs.

"I'm free tomorrow," she tells him. "I'll be expecting you. Don't be late, this time."

* * *

He isn't. Clair fights him and snarls and delivers herself wholly, and Gold shouts and strategizes and defends.

She remembers Pryce's words, and, when they both release their last pokémon, she thinks she finally understands.


End file.
